When you agree to a THR, it’s major surgery no less and carries a number of risks, it’s undoubtedly because you have reached the point where it is impossible to function. The small pockets of relief that used to offer some respite no longer exist. Living in constant pain eventually becomes overwhelming and consequently, you can no longer contemplate living with it for a minute longer than you have to. Hips degenerate for a number of reasons but in my case mine was mangled due to rheumatoid arthritis, an autoimmune disease which causes chronic inflammation in the joints and organs. I was diagnosed over 25 years ago, but the disease had reared its head in my body long before it was given a formal name.
If you’re anything like me, when you have made the decision to have the operation you’ll look for any number of reasons to change your mind. Fortunately, my family knew what I was at and ignored my excuses for postponement. And they were right, there’s never really a great time to go under the knife. That said, there are advantages in getting it underway. The surgeon, in preparing me for the op, offered me comfort in promising me that the pain I was currently in would be gone immediately following surgery.
He was right, it was. The old pain was weirdly gone. I didn’t quite appreciate just how horrendous the replacement pain was going to be, however, it was at least temporary at its fiercest stage (for a week or so, perhaps) and I now have the promised new lease of life to look forward to at the end of the recovery period. Within three months, the Prof has said, my hip will feel great.
After a few days of being quite unwell post op, once I began my physio I gradually started to feel better. There are still loads of restrictions and these will be in place for some weeks to come. It is challenging not simply being able to get up and walk without the cumbersome burden of securing the support of my crutches. Not being allowed to bend below the waist is more manageable in the sense that pain quickly lets you know if you’ve gone beyond the 90 degrees cut off point. Consequently I’ve been relying on a grabber for the hundred times a day I drop my phone, medicine, crutches, clickers, notes, laptop, book, etc (the grabber is great for most things but it will not put shoes and socks on for you, no matter how much you plead with it). Sleeping flat on my back like Dracula, unable to give in to the overwhelming urge to move on to my side is annoying, but I’m now firmly on the road to recovery. At my own pace.
One thing you’ll find when you’re having this op is that almost everyone you talk to will know of at least one person who had a miraculously quick recovery. Try not to focus on Joe Bloggs or the equivalent superhuman who swam the freezing artic unsupported, and then flew on their own steam (who needs a seat on aeroplane when you have a new hip) across the Atlantic before climbing Mount Kilimanjaro on the day after surgery.
We all heal at a different rate.
Before the surgery I didn’t give any consideration to what it would feel like to have a ceramic joint in my body, yet it is one of the first things that struck me. After the epidural wore off I kept trying to reposition myself in bed because I was sure there was an iron rod of some sort underneath the mattress digging into my operated leg. Turns out that’s just me being aware of an alien body bedding itself down inside me. Whilst that awareness is still present, I think we’re getting a little more acquainted now…
Although, back to the op for a moment. My surgery was carried out under a spinal epidural with sedation. I really stressed to the anaesthetist that I needed to be well under as I didn’t want to be aware of men in masks coming at me with saws and various other instruments of torture. I could tell by the shocked look on his face that this was absolutely the first time a patient had brought this up as a pre-surgical concern…. Anyway, he did his job and I remember nothing about the procedure, which is probably just as well. In recovery I asked the nurse if I had “behaved” during the operation. She laughed and I held my breath wondering what the hell was coming. It wasn’t too bad… She said I had started talking during the surgery, asking the surgeons to pause to give me time to organise a film crew. It seems I wanted to make a documentary about the process.
Happy to report that storytelling is still my absolute focus!
That’s about it. I was bruised from mid back to ankle on both sides of my leg but that has considerably faded now. However, my knee is still going to the shops while my new hip is coming back with the change. I’m hoping they will meet in the middle somewhere along the way… My wound has been checked and it’s still not quite healed so it’s been re-dressed to be assessed again in another few days. Anyone who is immunosuppressed has to be super cautious about infection.
For now, it’s all about the physio, the exercises, the crazy dreams where everyone I love steals my crutches leaving me vulnerable and unable to move, and dealing with the inevitable flare up of my RA which has come with temporarily halting my biologic immunosuppressants injections in order to minimise the risk of infection following surgery. Hopefully I’ll get the green light to return to them soon as crutches are hard to enough to manoeuvre without trying to do so with swollen ankles, wrists, knees and fingers. And of course, it’s full speed ahead with my PhD, which will hopefully offer some sanity in the thick of all this drama.
A week ago I was still saying under no circumstances will I be getting the other hip done. I’ll live with the pain, I shouted confidently, never wanting to feel the post op pain again. Shock, horror, though. I might be beginning to change my mind on that already. … Might be. Hang fire with the instruments of torture for a wee whole longer!
Margot McCuaig 